Lament
by Shirl
Summary: [Evening] Oneshot scene filler.  After watching the film, I was disappointed that we did not see why Ann and Harris did not pursue their potential relationship.  Here is my missing scene between them.


Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in this story. They belong to Susan Minot, author of the novel "Evening". This short fic is based on the Focus Features (Hart-Sharp Entertainment) 2007 film adaptation.

Author's Note: I thought about putting this in the Books section but since it is based on the movie, it's going in Misc. Movies. It has not been edited by a beta, sorry. There is a spoiler for a pivotal event in the movie so if you haven't seen it, wait until you have. After I saw it, I was compelled to write this "missing scene". It takes place directly after Ann leaves the Wittenborn home, where Lila and Lila's parents have found out about Buddy's demise.

* * *

Harris found her exactly where he imagined she'd be. She sat in the middle of the boat, staring into the distance, tendrils of hair caught on the breeze and swirling about her head.

He walked down the ramp that led to the dock. "Ann," he said.

Although she appeared not to hear him, her spine stiffened. He repeated her name, and added, "Come inside the house."

Ann shook her head.

"At least get off the boat," Harris reasoned. "You look cold." He extended his arm toward her.

After some hesitation, she grasped his hand and stepped onto the dock. Harris touched her shoulder with his free hand, surprised by the iciness of her skin; the morning sun was bright and warm. "You really are cold," he said. "Let's go back…"

Ann jerked away from him. "I can't go back there," she said, sounding horrified by the very suggestion of it. "Did you see the way they looked at us?"

"We don't have anything to be ashamed of," Harris said. "This wasn't our fault."

"But you're a doctor. You could have…"

It was his turn to cut her off. "I can't work miracles. Even if I'd tried, I wouldn't have been able to save him."

Ann's mouth twisted downward. "How can you be so sure? Why are you acting like…like you don't even care?"

Her accusatory tone was a slap in the face. "Of course I care! Unlike you, I knew Buddy all his life, so don't you dare tell me I don't care." Anger and guilt – yes, guilt – had him clenching his teeth so hard, he expected them to crack to pieces.

In the Wittenborn's sitting room, the spotlight had been turned on him and Ann to explain where they'd disappeared to last night. Harris wished he'd heard the frantic calling of his name after Buddy had been found on the roadside. Despite his claim to the contrary, Harris knew that immediate medical attention might have saved Buddy, or at least given him a fighting chance. His friend hadn't deserved to die like that.

Ann's lips were quivering again, and Harris regretted his outburst. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell."

She held his gaze for several seconds, studying him before glancing away. "It's all right," she said at last. "I know you care. I shouldn't have said that."

They fell silent; the only sound was the lapping of water against the side of the boat. Harris seldom found himself at a loss for words, but he struggled now to find something more to say. Something that wasn't trite or meaningless. He was in no way prepared, however, for what actually came out of his mouth.

"So where does this leave us?" he asked.

Ann swung her head back around and blinked at him. "Us?"

Her questioning look mirrored his own feelings. What the hell was he doing? Ann was a great girl, but he knew a lot of great girls. He didn't believe in marriage or long-term relationships.

Harris regarded Ann, unsure of why she seemed so special. He stopped himself before he could over-analyse the situation. Simply put, he was drawn to her, and what he'd intended to be a one-night fling wasn't nearly enough.

"Harris?"

Ann's voice was soft, hesitant. Harris cleared his throat. "I want to see you again, Ann. I'll be honest. I don't know where this will lead, but I want to find out. The question is – do you?"

XxXxXxX

Ann had no idea what she wanted. Did it really matter? Buddy was dead. _Dead._

She had said such cruel things to him last night. She'd felt awful about it and planned to apologize to him this morning. In her mind, she could see Buddy lying on the road, hurt and bleeding, while she and Harris had been oblivious in their own world. It made her sick. Pressing one hand to her stomach, she tried to suppress the roiling waves.

"Would you say something, please?" Harris urged. "You're killing me here."

Ann shot him a withering look, and Harris grimaced as he said, "Sorry, bad choice of words. I seem to be apologizing a lot lately."

Ann exhaled slowly before speaking. "I don't know what to say. I don't even know you."

"So we'll get to know each other."

Harris sounded so smooth, so logical. Ann was simultaneously attracted and repelled by him. It seemed wrong. And looking at Harris right now only reminded her of Buddy.

"I can't do this. Not now," she said.

He nodded, as if in understanding. "Okay. Then when?"

Temper flaring, she snapped, "Do you want me to give you a schedule? I don't know, Harris! Definitely not now and maybe never."

As soon as the words flew out of her mouth, Ann inwardly cringed.

Harris stared at her through narrowed eyes. "I can't wait forever. Never is a long time. If you're not willing to give us a chance, then I guess that's it."

"I guess so," Ann echoed. She wondered how she could sound so emotionless when she felt torn between screaming and sobbing.

Harris' face was also swept clean; a cool, handsome visage that she was certain to remember.

"Goodbye, Harris."

"Goodbye, Ann."

As Ann walked away, she hoped to hear her name being called again; Harris pleading her to stay. She almost thought she'd say yes, and throw her arms around him. Only the sound of the sea and whistling wind reached her ears.

She continued on, each step heavy with grief – for Buddy, and for something nameless and intangible that she'd lost.

Ann kept walking. She didn't look back.


End file.
